Where Dwell The Brave At Heart
by SpellotapedSnidget
Summary: Collection of one-shots written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments). Currently: Take Me Away - Draco Malfoy (Astoria Greengrass)
1. The Tea Kettle's Whistle

_**A/N:**_ _ **Written for HSWW (Challenges & Assignments)**_

 _ **Assignment #6:**_ _write a witch/wizard being trapped. (Interpret this however you want, just be creative)_

Extra Prompts: _Word: soap_

 ** _October Event: Around The World in Thirty-One Days_**

Country 134: Paraguay: _Word: Pressure_

Word Count: _approx. 1k_

* * *

The whistle of a tea kettle tears through the silence. Confused, he looks around to find the source of the sound. It stops.

Then it starts again – the shrill scream of steam which flees its prison after the pressure became too much. He closes his eyes to listen, really listen. He moves his head from right to left and back again but the volume stays the same. It stops.

He's ready when it appears the next time. Listening hard, moving with caution. That's when he notices that the sound escapes from his own mouth. His lips are perfectly formed to press the air out and produce the high note. Why is he making that sound again? Oh yeah, that's right, it's because he _is_ a tea kettle.

~oOo~

It takes a while until he doubts his existence as a kitchen object, it takes a while until he registers other people. Images are flying through his head and try to come to the fore but they are too fast and slippery to really catch. Each one leaves him in a different state though. There are those images which warm his body and leave him content and then there are those which frighten him even though he doesn't know why. It's all sluggish but nevertheless, his hair stands on end and something cold runs down his spine. It's those moments in which he starts whistling again.

A woman enters the room. She's kind, he thinks. She enters and leaves and enters and leaves. He doesn't know why she doesn't just stay but as long as she comes back it's fine with him.

One day she calls him Broderick and he smiles. Something is right about this word and he holds firmly onto it lest it slips away again. His lips move to form the word and though no sound escapes them it feels familiar. Afterwards, the images don't move so fast anymore.

~oOo~

 _'Get it, now! Stretch out your arm and take it down! NOW!'_

He wakes up bathed in sweat and fear is clawing its way into his mind. Heart racing and hands shaking he tries to move away from it all. He knows the inevitable pain is just seconds away because he can't, he mustn't touch the glowing orb. But he can't move, he's not allowed to unless the voice tells him otherwise, he's trapped, trapped inside his own body.

Fighting against the force that's holding him in its clutch, he rocks his body around, the strength needed to move an inch is enormous but he grits his teeth to assemble the energy. The panic makes sure his muscles react and then - he falls.

The woman is there in an instant. He wants to tell her about the voice and warn her that danger is coming although he doesn't know which kind of danger and so he tries, tries with all his might to form the words. A sound escapes his lips but it's just noise and he notices with horror that her mouth stretches into a smile, a genuine smile. She doesn't understand. She's talking about how great it is that he has moved on his own accord and how wonderful it is that he's found his voice. Nevertheless, he mumbles on and on and hopes that someone will understand what it is that is happening.

The image fades away though, like water running through his finger. This time however, he is sure that it is a memory rather than a nightmare because there's something profound in the way he feels. It's not really like water running through his fingers more like a piece of soap, solid but slippery, escaping his desperately grabbing hands.

~oOo~

Broderick gets better. He can feel it. Every day that passes the images become clearer, more explicit, his voice gets stronger and his muscles listen to his own commands. He's still not feeling right, the nightmares still pester his dreams, his mind is still sluggish but he almost doesn't think of himself as a tea kettle anymore. Every day. A timestamp he wasn't able to grasp a few months before.

The woman, Miriam, comes into the room with a thing in her hand. A magic thing - it can spit water. She shows him how to care for the green plant next to his bed and leaves. Broderick is excited about the task as he noticed that his movements become more exact whenever he concentrates on something, his mind becomes clearer. He's almost resembling himself again.

When the plant's tentacles snake around his neck he's a bit surprised. When it takes control over his arms he gets scared and angry. Angry, because he worked so hard to become the master over his own body once more, scared because the feeling is so familiar. The thought is yanked away from his mind quickly, though, as everything goes black.

~oOo~

Broderick Bode had been a peculiar man with a peculiar job. Early on, Broderick had noticed that he disliked boundaries. As long as one's mind searches for more there is more. This had been his opinion and one of the main reasons why he decided to become an Unspeakable. Also, he had been claustrophobic which seemed just to fit in. No, Broderick Bode hadn't been fond of limitation.

It is tragic, really, that in the last months of his life he had been trapped in so many ways.

First, by an Imperio, which left him with no control over his thoughts nor his body. Then by the prophecy's protection spell. A spell which let him believe he was a tea kettle of all things. Pressured into insanity. Trapped inside an illusion, trapped inside his mind. Not even in his final moments was he granted to die as a free man. Bound by a plant he had cared for, its tentacles squeezing the air from his lungs, choking him to death.

Ironically, Broderick Bode's body had been found smiling. I like to think it's because he's free at last.


	2. Losing you

**_A/N: Written for HSWW (Challenges & Assignments)_**

 ** _Assignment #9, Duelling Lessons:_** Write about looking out for someone else

 _ **October Event: Around The World in Thirty-One Days**_

Country 119: Namibia: _Character: Neville Longbottom_

Word Count: _approx._ _3k_

 ** _WARNING:_** _miscarriages and depression!_

* * *

She's excited at the prospect of seeing her child again. Her unborn child. Maybe this time it will show its little feet, maybe she will see its little fingers again and a tiny, tiny nose. Not much more than grey specks. To her it's the world.

Hannah squeezes Neville's hand affectionately and sees his loving eyes rest on hers. A smile tucks at the corner of his lips while they both wait for the muggle doctor to show them how this dark blotch is their baby's left ear.

She looks at him expectantly but the doctor only frowns at the screen and saves picture after picture.

"Would you give me a moment?" But the doctor doesn't wait for an answer and leaves the confused couple waiting in the clinical white room. A breeze tickles at the liquid on her stomach and Hannah shivers. A cold is trying to wrap itself around her that has nothing to do with temperature but she pushes it away. She can't control the trembling though.

"Are you cold? Here." Neville's already brushed out of his coat and laid it over her shoulders, rubbing them soothingly. But he's nervous, Hannah can feel it. He's downright frightened.

The doctor returns with an older man. Also in white. Another doctor. He says hello in a jovial way which confuses Hannah even more. Hope returns to her and she sees Neville's form unclench, his face untighten.

When the older doctor looks at the screen and his laugh lines disappear, Hannah's sure something is not right. She knows something is terribly wrong when he takes a deep breath and gives their doctor the tiniest nod.

Panic grabs her, she goes rigid but Neville has not caught on yet. He's standing there smiling and staring expectantly at the two men in white.

Thoughts swarm her head as if they had been waiting outside until the door labelled 'dread' would finally open. Will the child have only one leg? That wouldn't be too bad. She could handle a limping child. Maybe St. Mungos would even have a cure for it.

'But what if it's mentally disabled?' a tiny voice whispers in her mind. Could she really handle that? She thinks she can but could she really? She doesn't think for a moment she wouldn't love the child. But would she love it the same? And could she not only cope with the disability herself but at the same time give the child what it needs, what it deserves? She likes to think so but at the same time she's uncomfortably aware about not knowing the consequences.

She has no time to order her thoughts, all she can do is hang on to that horribly fragile thread that's whispering to her that however her child will turn out she'll love it. And hasn't love already saved a whole country, maybe even a world?

Her heartbeat returns to an almost normal frequency which she knows has everything to do with the hand still resting on her shoulder. Neville's there. He's there and he's good and loving and strong and together they can get through anything. It's not like he's a stranger to handling mentally handicapped persons.

But she's not ready for what comes next. Neither is her husband.

"Mrs. and Mr. Longbottom, I am terribly sorry -" it seems as if the doctor has to find the courage to meet their eyes. "there's something wrong with the baby."

"What?" Neville sounds taken aback, not yet sad or angry just baffled.

"I said there-"

"What is wrong with my child?" Her voice is barely more than a whisper but Hannah is surprised at the steadiness.

"I'm afraid we will have to make a late-term abortion." His look is pained when he meets her eyes. "I am really sorry."

"What do you mean late-term abortion? We've seen our baby, we've seen its little fists and heard its heartbeat." Neville's voice has a note of desperation in it.

"The child only lives because of the support of its mother. It can't live on its own."

"How can you know that? Maybe it gets stronger. There are several months left in which it can grow stronger, right?"

"Mr. Longbottom, sadly there's no way that can happen. The child hasn't got the necessary organs to live on its own. The heartbeat you heard is just an echo of its mother's."

"What are you saying? How can't it have its organs? Maybe they'll grow."

The doctor gulps two times, Hannah notices. She fixes her eyes on the doctor's throat to avoid looking at the two men.

"The baby hasn't grown anything beyond its ribs. There's a lung missing, too. Several other vital organs haven't been created like the liver and…"

Hannah doesn't hear anything else. Something is buzzing in her ears. It fills her whole head. Her baby is not able to live. Her baby isn't more than a bust. A horrible hint of a human being, a joke on their expenses.

She knows it's her fault. It's not the first time she can't keep a child. She's lost four already. Four little beings. But this time, this time it stayed and she had been so happy. She's been cautious of course, stayed out of anything stressful, didn't move anything heavy not even by magic and she had thought life finally answered. Just last week they had decided being almost 5 months along was enough and had told their friends and family that they were expecting.

It's her fault of course. She's too old to get a baby, she's waited too long.

"Come on, love."

She lets Neville drag her along to wherever it is they are going. The buzzing hasn't yet stopped, it has spread out to her sight which is all fuzzy and dreamlike. Neville's voice is muffled as if she hears it from underwater.

"We're going to St. Mungos. I mean, it's muggle technology maybe our magic interferes with the machines. I'm sure it's…"

The buzzing grows stronger and as Neville takes her gently to the healer she's contemplating if she's in shock or if it is normal to feel nothing at all. They talk and she listens just enough to understand that it's not been a mistake.

"Mr. Longbottom, we have to do a late-term abortion so your wife's life is not threatened."

"Alright. Of course it's just-" Neville can't go on. He gulps and gulps and rubs his eyes angrily. "We'll have to think about it, talk about it, you know? Come to terms an-"

"Can you do it now?" Her voice is without emotion, maybe she forgot how to feel.

"There's no reason to hurry, Mrs. Longbottom. You can take your time. I know it must be difficult to-"

"Can you do it now?"

"Certainly, but-"

"Then do it now." She stares in his eyes and sees the pity. But it's not moving her in any way.

~xOx~

She's hearing Neville's sobs from downstairs. He's never been good at Silencing-Charms therefore it comes as no surprise that the magical barrier crumbled at his first wail. Hannah knows she should be crying too. She knows she should be there with him, comforting each other but she can't find the energy to get up or produce tears. Lying on the bed, she listens to Neville's desperation until she falls asleep.

~xOx~

"It's been four days. She hasn't left the bedroom for anything other than the bathroom. She's barely touching her food. I don't know what to do, Hermione."

"She just needs time. It's not easy for her."

"I know it's not easy!" Neville's voice rises and his neck flushes in anger. Belatedly, Hermione realizes it's not just Hannah who's lost a child.

"I'm sorry Neville. I'm so, so sorry." She comes around the table and hugs him, holding him close. It takes almost a minute until he unclenches and when he does he breaks down. He's sobbing in her arms, horribly fragile, the hurt of his loss strong in his voice.

"I just thought this time…"

"I know, Neville, I know. Shh." Hermione places a light kiss on his forehead. She feels her own eyes water, not truly moved by the child's death as she never knew it but commiserating with her friends' grief.

After a few minutes Neville pushes her away gently and wipes his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

He smiles at her, a weak watery grateful smile.

"What can I do to help my wife?"

"I'm not sure there's the one way to go about it. Be there for her. Give her time."

"I'm worried about her."

"I know."

~xOx~

As soon as she hears his footfalls on the stairs she closes her eyes. When he enters she senses his gaze sweeping over her and has the distinct feeling that he knows she's feigning sleep. A tray is put and she feels a lock of her hair being gently stroked behind her ear.

"Don't slip away from me. Please." He brushes his lips to her head, a kiss so gentle it's almost not there. "I love you."

The weight is lifted from the mattress and a door falls shut quietly. Hannah waits a few more seconds before she opens her lids.

Her eyes burn as if her body is finally giving her the tears to grieve. But she's just angry and disappointed and that's why they sting. She doesn't want Neville to stay but why didn't he stay? It's ridiculous, of course, but she's feeling as if _he_ doesn't want to stay, doesn't want to look at her or be near her. She's the reason their child has died, hasn't even started living. She wouldn't want to see herself either. She's doing them both a favour in feigning sleep.

There's some food on the tray. Porridge and a sliced apple. A decanter of water. A little note. Always a note.

It started before they dated, sometime during their 7th year at Hogwarts. He saw her giggling at some cards and asked her what made her so happy. She had to admit it looked suspicious, standing there with a bruised face laughing at next to nothing.

Neville really surpassed himself that year, looking out for others while still standing up for what he believed in and she wouldn't have been the first to crack because of what was going on. The truth was she just loved the sayings and drawings on the cards. Hannah had always regarded herself as a simple kind of person who found happiness in the small things. Later, Neville confided that he thought there was nothing simple about being happy, especially in times like these and that she had brought light to more people by her positivity than she realized. Since then, he had given her little notes with drawings or sayings on them just to cheer her up and see a smile on her face. He claimed it brought a smile to his face as well.

Now, she regards the note with suspicion as if it is going to trick her. There's of course always the eventual 'I love you' but, staying true to their origins, more often it's a little doodle or a quote Neville came upon. Sometimes he even gives her notes he confiscated of his students.

However, Neville's not been in Hogwarts for a while now. He claims he needs time to heal but in truth he's looking after the Leaky - and after Hannah. Needless to say, she noticed the food changed from steak and pie to porridge and simple fruits. He observed that she can't bring herself to swallow something rich of flavour.

Above all, she's afraid. She's afraid that he tells her they can try again and she's afraid he says they shouldn't. She's afraid he suggests an adoption and she's afraid he'll say they don't need children to be happy. Everything he says she would doubt. Because if it wasn't for her he would have children, if she hadn't let him down, if she wasn't a failure...

She feels useless, a burden, she can't even look after herself. On the other hand, she doesn't really care.

~xOx~

"I'm sorry guys, we're closed."

"I know George, sorry to bother you."

"Neville! Come in, come in. I'm just finishing this up."

When George looks up Neville fidgets in a corner, touching stuff just so his hands have something to do. He's uncomfortably reminded of the clumsy first-year constantly losing his toad.

"So, what's up, Neville?"

"Well, I was wondering… I mean…"

"Spit it out, we've been through enough together, don't you think."

"When Fred died you kinda were miserable. No, I mean, of course you were miserable but what I mean-"

"I fell into depression. Pretty hard, too. You can say it aloud, it's no secret." A kind, encouraging smile spread over George's face but his eyes had a hint of sadness in them. "Is it Hannah?"

Neville crumbles. It seems as if the shelf behind him is the only thing keeping him upright.

"I don't know what to do, George." His voice is hoarse and stricken. "I make sure she eats and drinks enough but she's not getting better. She doesn't leave the bedroom, she doesn't talk to me, she even feigns sleep when I come in. Sometimes I think I make her feel worse." He whispers the last bit, the hurt and desperation clear in his voice.

"It's hard, man. You're feeling like a weight is crushing you down and everything is too much. That's basically depression. I could describe it in a hundred different ways but if you haven't experienced it yourself you won't get it. It's not your fault, I bet you're the one good thing keeping her sane." George pours Neville a drink which he takes gratefully.

"She's not getting out of that one by herself, no matter if she says differently." George locks eyes with Neville. "And you can't help her in the same way a professional or a person who suffers from depression can. I know you love her, and believe me Hannah does too, but right now you can only be there - and kick her arse."

Neville chokes on his drink.

"No really, she hasn't the motivation to do anything right now but she's got to get out of the house. Fresh air really does do wonders. She won't be the same just because you took an afternoon stroll but she won't feel as smothered. You have to take her to a therapist though. There's no way around that." George hands him a card. "That's the one I got along with. But Hannah has to feel comfortable with the person she's supposed to talk to. You might have to find someone else for that but it's a starting point."

Neville nods slowly. "Ok. Thank you, George."

When he's almost out of the door George calls after him. "And Neville, it does take a really long time to get better. Don't lose hope too quickly. Keep in mind: Hannah loves you even if she can't show it right now."

~xOx~

"Rise and shine, love, it's a wonderful day outside." Neville pulls the curtains back bathing Hannah in sunlight.

She pulls the blanket over her head in response. However, Neville does not give up that easily. He snatches the blanket from her fingers before she can get her wits together.

"You've got to take a shower." His wife just curls into herself.

"If you don't go by yourself I'll make you…" When Hannah doesn't move Neville picks her up and marches to the bathroom as his wife shrieks in surprise.

"Let me down, Neville! I can shower on my own." She glares at him as he puts her down and it's almost breaking his heart when she demands him to leave.

When Neville hears the water running he sneaks back in and replaces her nightdress with some clothes. He also takes her wand. Guilt floods through him as he knows how most of their generation feel utterly defenceless without it.

"Colloportus."

After the shower, Hannah feels better. Annoyed but better which she certainly won't tell her husband especially when she notices that her nightdress is missing. Cautiously, she sticks her head out the door to see if the coast is clear. Tiptoeing over the landing, she's on the verge of letting out a breathe of relief until she tries the doorknob. Locked.

He's sitting at the table reading the Prophet and sipping tea.

"What the hell, Neville?!"

"Eat." He doesn't even look up. After a moment of hesitation she does and Neville can't prevent the small smile. When it becomes clear she won't eat any more he puts the Prophet aside and gets their coats.

"We go for a walk."

"I don't want to go outside." Hannah looks horrified, small and frightened and Neville has to pull himself together to not give in.

She's like a shy doe, her fingers twitch but she can't bring herself to cling on to her husband. It's gotten cold during the month she hasn't been outside. Neville leads her to a wonderful spot of their garden, near a willow and a small pond. New plants have been planted around it and as she steps closer she discovers the stone between the tree's roots its writing saying:

 _Love is enough._

 _Snug as a bug in a rug._

A little ladybug wrapped into a blanket is painted below.

Neville's hands tremble, nervous and unsure he's waiting for her reaction. Hannah touches the small drawing then turns to him with tears flowing freely down her face.

"It's perfect."

The whisper is all he needs to wrap her into his arms where they stay grieving.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Hannah sobs into his chest.

Neville's not sure what she's referring to and he doesn't care. He holds her tighter kissing her head, relieved that Hannah's emerged from the shell she had become.

"It's alright, love. We'll get through it."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Fair warning: It's gonna be a rather long rant. Obviously, you don't have to read it, the story is complete. I just had to get it off my chest._

 _This was written not only for HSWW but also for a coworker of mine who has lost an unborn child recently. Although she probably won't ever read it which may be for the best. Maybe it's more for me getting things straight in my head anyway._

 _The news hit me harder than I expected, harder than it should have because we aren't really close, I barely know her to be true. The thing is, I am really, really sorry for her loss (I always hated this expression. It just seems to be such a platitude.) as she is a nice person. One of those rare persons who asks you how you're doing with actually wanting to know. She's helping you without you having to ask. A person who makes your day always a tiny bit better without you even noticing. Probably without her noticing either._

 _And that's the thing really, an awesome person should know how awesome he/she is and it's up to us to tell them so. Because most of them never realize how amazing they are. Most of them won't believe you when told they are special because to them it goes without saying to be kind and understanding and helpful. It's one of the reasons they are so beautiful._

 _So, I guess what I want to say is (and I know it's been said before and it's such a cliché): Take a moment and look around. If you're lucky enough to have a person in your life who's like my coworker, even if you're not very close to them, appreciate it. And maybe go up to them and just say: "You're amazing."_

 _Because, why not?_


	3. To Love A Child

_A huge 'thank you' to Lizzy who took the time to beta!_

* * *

 **To Love A Child**

 _word count: 2102_

* * *

Their first encounter is in a dark and empty corridor. Dark because it is night, and empty likely because of the same reason. Then maybe not. There has been fear among the castle inhabitants for quite a time now and only very few of the small ones walk alone even when the sun is up in the sky.

When he looks at the creature right in front of him Trevor knows why they are frightened. He's shaking, too. However it's the only movement his body allows. He's rooted to the spot, can't jump away, his breathing quickens and a nervous croak escapes him. It's huge. Its fangs are prominent. Its body is strong. Even if he would be able to move it's unlikely he would make it far.

The creature lowers its giant head to the level of Trevor which means the head rests on the floor, one huge nostril as big as the whole toad. Its eyes are closed and when it sniffs him the rush of air is so strong that Trevor's small body moves slightly forward.

'Mother?'

Trevor's amazed by the insecurity in the basilisk's question. The fragility which lays clearly behind the words, the absurdity of the question in itself. Trevor is not a young tadpole anymore, but he's barely older than three. He can't be the parent of a creature which is obviously several centuries old.

However, there has always been a special bond between a basilisk and a toad and even though Trevor is too young and inexperienced to know it, he feels connected to the huge snake in a way he never thought to be possible between species.

'Mother? Why don't you answer me?'

Trevor hears the hurt in the snake's voice, the frightened quivering, the still present hope. The monstrous creature is like a youngling, unsure but still demanding.

'I am not your mother,' Trevor tells the basilisk gently. Why gently, he doesn't know.

'But you smell like her. Just like her.'

'I am not her. Can't you see it? Just look at me.'

'I can't. If I do you will stop moving. You will stop speaking. You will stop breathing. And then you disappear. You've done it before. Even though I just wanted to see your eyes once. Are you still mad at me?'

Trevor's heart breaks. He hasn't got the guts to tell the snake again that he's not its mother.

'Of course I am not mad.'

~xOx~

Trevor is torn between the two children he loves. _His_ children. Because even though he is much younger than both of them he feels responsible for them. There's Neville of course, the small human who finds comfort in him, who is constantly afraid, who has a heart made of gold. He's always had a bad conscience whenever he left Neville alone. But at times Trevor just needed his solitude. He needed to breathe the air like he was supposed to and explore his surroundings and be free to be with his kind. He has always returned though, letting the small one find him.

Now, there's also the huge one, the one he can actually talk to, the one he hasn't known for long but feels a connection to nonetheless. Trevor visits the basilisk in its home. It is all giddy to show him around, again the small child which doesn't seem to fit a creature that old. However, the basilisk had been alone too long, its mother long dead and from what the snake tells Trevor it had only had two more companions over the years. Both of them not friends from what Trevor gathers. None of them has explained the world to the basilisk and none of them has shown it what is right and just. There was no chance for it to grow into an adult. Now, there is a third one but Trevor hasn't met the human yet.

Trevor loves them both. But Neville's afraid, so afraid all the time because of Trevor's other child even though Neville doesn't know Trevor has another child. He tries to tell the basilisk that he shouldn't go around and try to kill but it doesn't seem to understand that it's wrong, that it hurts people. On the contrary, the snake gets angry because Trevor isn't proud of it even though it has done exactly what it has been told.

When a strong animal like a basilisk gets angry it gets dangerous. Trevor knows that but his heart just sees the small child inside which throws a tantrum because it craves love. And that's why he doesn't notice the danger caused by the raging snake right away. When a stone crashes down next to him he is surprised but he can't contemplate where it came from because the basilisk is still thrashing around and more things are flying through the air. He jumps out of the way of a huge wave of water and a spiralling bone, his eyes locked at the small tunnel which will bring him to the rest of the castle, croaking to the snake to stop, to calm down. But it's no use because it doesn't hear him, it doesn't notice anything. So, Trevor jumps on a fallen stone and catapults himself in the small opening, escaping the danger of the raging basilisk. With his heart pounding Trevor looks sadly back through the tunnel until another stone comes down and blocks out the light. And even though he just got out in time his heart is pounding hard not because of the narrow escape but because he's afraid his child will hurt itself while being upset.

Trevor promises himself he will try harder, he will be more patient and understanding but he won't let the topic go. It's hurting Neville and just as he can't bear to see the basilisk get hurt he also can't bear Neville's sobs and quivering statue. Trevor decides he's going to make it all good. He's going to take care of things and especially his children. But until then he won't tell anyone about his big child.

~xOx~

Trevor enters the chamber the next day with caution but a yearning to see his child safe. And he's not disappointed. The basilisk is fine, it is calm and it even apologises. It breaks Trevor's heart when it begs him not to leave. It's obvious no one in a long time has loved the creature before him.

They sit and talk and Trevor explains about right and wrong and about the world in general. He's describing a sunset and the feeling of croaking in the morning and about having a friend like Neville. He talks a lot about Neville. He talks about being worried about someone else like he was about the basilisk the day before and that that's a part of what love feels like.

The huge snake listens but Trevor is not sure if it understands because those things are hard to understand if you haven't felt them.

'Will you go away if I hurt someone again?'

It's the fear of a neglected child again.

'I will never stop loving you, little one. I won't leave. But it will hurt my heart if you do. I would be really sad.' Trevor tries to explain.

'Then I won't do it again. I promise.'

It's not the reason Trevor wants the basilisk to stop hurting people but he decides to take small steps. Changing one's mind takes time and for now it is enough to know the castle inhabitants are safe. Neville is safe.

'Good.'

~xOx~

There's nothing you won't do for your children. Trevor has heard the saying before but never understood its magnitude. Now, he does.

The toad is on the way back to the castle, jumping with a limp, tired, bruised. He still can't believe he has been able to kill. To murder.

The rooster appeared out of nowhere. Somewhere from the lines of the trees where it must have fled to. Trevor only wanted it to stay silent. To go away from where it came from. To secure his child's safety.

But the rooster hadn't gone away. It hadn't stayed silent. And Trevor had a child to protect.

With all the strength he could muster he jumped at the rooster. He had aimed for the beak but crashed against its throat. The crow stopped. But the rooster didn't get any air anymore. With bulging eyes it staggered around until it fell on its side and even the sound of sucking in the air stopped. At last, it was silent.

Trevor can't prevent himself from looking back. It's dark and he has jumped far, too far to see, but his mind tells him the dark object on the ground is what's left of the rooster.

When Trevor finally arrives in the Gryffindor tower he snuggles close to Neville who's having another nightmare. He calms down but Trevor is still shaking when his exhaustion takes over and sleep comes. Neville's not the only one who has nightmares that night.

~xOx~

Trevor is at Neville's side when he hears the news about the ghost and the boy. He notices how his small child begins to shiver, how his fingers twitch nervously. How he bites the inner side of his mouth to prevent himself from crying. Neville holds on to him and as much as he wants to comfort him he knows he needs to see his other child. But Neville doesn't eat anything so he can't slip away during breakfast and he's holding on to Trevor secretly in his pocket while he tries to succeed in Charms.

When his small child copies something down, Trevor sees his chance but Neville catches him before he has even touched the ground.

"Don't. You can't go wandering off. It's not safe. I don't want you to get hurt."

The murmur breaks Trevor's heart because it's him who should protect his children.

Although he has a bad conscience Trevor takes his chance during Potions. Neville is occupied with cutting something and keeping his head down so he won't be noticed by his professor. When the bat-like man comes to stand in front of him, Trevor leaves.

With a sinking feeling in his stomach he goes to find his big child. He's sad and angry but he tries to calm himself. Then he confronts the huge snake and if it hadn't been so tragic the sight would have been funny. A little toad reprimanding a huge deadly creature.

The basilisk says it was an accident. He says he didn't mean to do it, he just wanted to see the sunset because of how beautiful Trevor has described it. And then there was the boy.

Of course Trevor asks why he didn't go directly outside. What he was doing in the castle at all. But there's again fear and desperation in the child's voice and his small heart can't bear that.

'I forgot. I didn't think. Don't leave me.'

And Trevor believes it. He believes his child didn't mean to hurt anyone because it is his child.

~xOx~

Only a few days later Neville's friend gets petrified. Trevor doesn't comfort Neville this time. He goes straight to the chamber. He's angry and he doesn't care to jump carefully or announce his arrival. The snake hears him though.

'Master, I have tried to do as you said. I'm sorry the girls are not dead. I try harder next time. Master?'

But Trevor has turned around, tears in his eyes and a lump in his throat. The basilisk has never tried to stop. Not even for _his_ sake. It's not in a basilisk's nature to be kind.

It's his own fault, really. He shouldn't have hoped. He shouldn't have cared. It's not his real child after all.

Trevor wouldn't return.

~xOx~

Trevor jumps hesitantly into the big chamber. It lies on the floor. Its eyes are gone, they are only dark blotches of tried blood. He remembers their first encounter. How the basilisk told him it had craved to see its mother's eyes just once and therefore had killed her. Trevor doesn't even know what colour his child's eyes were. He has never seen them.

Slowly, the toad moves forward. He circles the creature's head, one nostril bigger than he but Trevor only sees the small, frightened, insecure child lying dead before him.

'I'm sorry.'

Trevor leaves without looking back.

As he lies on Neville's pillow and sees his still form, the absence of nightmares lets him think that maybe it's for the best. That at least Neville is safe.

His heart, however, clenches painfully.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _ **Written for HSWW (Challenges & Assignments) [Term 8]**_

 _ **Assignment 1:** Sex Ed Task 1: Write about a creature that does hatch from an egg._

 _ **The 365 Prompt Challenge:** #81 Toad_

 _ **The Insane House Challenge:** #631: Creature - Basilisk_

 _ **Character Appreciation:** 7\. Plot point: Protecting a child_

 _ **Book Club:** Mary Terrafino **:** (word) care, (action) believing a lie, (action) escaping_

 _ **Fanfiction Resolution Challenge:** 34\. Write about a pet/creature from the books/movies_

 _ **Sticker Challenge:** Slytherin: Emerald - (word) Hope_

 _ **Bath Bomb Appreciation Challenge:** 29\. Paws For Thought - Write your story from the POV of a pet._


	4. Blind Date

**Blind Date**

 _word count: 1919_

* * *

Charlie sat at the small, round coffee table trying to ignore the little angel figurines above his head which were singing christmas carols in a much too high voice. Why, oh why, had Tonks decided Madam Puddifoot's of all the places was the right one to set him up? He could answer this question himself. Because she knew it would annoy him and that in turn made her laugh.

Charlie had only agreed to a blind date because of her constant nagging. When she mentioned he should carry a red rose for identification he had put his foot down. Enough was enough regardless if he took the whole thing serious or not. Instead, they had settled on a bright turquoise quill which was still too obvious for his taste but a compromise is seldom something you are extremely happy about.

However, his date was late. Charlie didn't mind if no one showed up at all but he was happy he brought a scroll of his quidditch players and tactics. At least he wasn't looking like a complete idiot. Well, at least he wasn't looking like a desperate idiot who had been stood up.

Putting the quill to some use he made notes on the tactics he planned to try out during the next practice.

"Charlie!"

Charlie looked up and saw Oliver waving at him from across the room. Snaking his way over to him, Charlie noticed that his keeper still limped slightly.

"What are you up to?"

"I'm meeting someone here…" Charlie murmured feeling the blush creep up his neck.

"Are those Quidditch moves?" Oliver's eyes began to shine eagerly.

Before Charlie could say something Oliver had sat down and threw his heavy winter coat carelessly away from his shoulders onto the back of the chair.

"Is that a double eight loop? Are we going to do this in the next practice? Gosh, I always wanted to try this one…"

But Charlie couldn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the tip of a bright turquoise quill which was poking out from Oliver's front pocket.

This couldn't be. There was no way Tonks could have known…

To his horror he began to sweat.

"Charlie, are you listening? Is everything alright?"

With some effort he removed his stare from the quill and looked into Oliver's eyes. Bad decision. Really bad decision.

"I… I…" Charlie just stuttered. Shaking his head about how ridiculous he acted, he wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"It's quite hot in here."

It wasn't a lie. Madam Puddifoot's had two blazing fireplaces and it was packed with students. Couples mostly.

"Yap, you're not wrong there. It's not even that cold outside what with all the sunshine today. Tell you something: I go get us something to drink and you tell me everything about the double eight loop and your intentions for the next game. Just wait a sec."

Charlie didn't tell him that there was someone to wait their table as he needed the time to collect himself.

It was ridiculous, really. He had always been the laid back kind of guy, never stressing too much about anything. Oliver was his teammate, his friend. There was really nothing to be nervous about.

Not even when his teammate had chosen to wear tight fitting pants instead of lose robes today.

 _What the hell am I thinking?_

Charlie pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes until he saw only dark blotches.

 _Ok, calm down, calm down. Act normal. No, damn it,_ be _normal!_

When he looked up Oliver stood at the counter talking to the woman. The sunny weather outside dipped the room in a welcoming light, a few grains of dust dancing in the sunshine. Usually, Charlie loved being outside but somehow even the good weather didn't hold the same attraction to him as being in this overstuffed cafe. He didn't mind the figurines anymore. It was kind of nice, really.

Oliver's hair was still tousled from the woolen hat he had been wearing. The smile he displayed let the dimples appear on his face. Those cute dimples.

 _No, no, no!_

"Thank you."

Oliver's voice wafted through the crowd as if he had been standing right next to Charlie. With amusement he watched the younger boy balancing a overstuffed tray while he attempted to convince the couple before him to detach themselves from one another long enough that he could get past them. The limp he was still sporting didn't help the tray to stay levelled. Charlie already saw half of the goods fall but Oliver made it to the table without an accident. Only the scone on top of the pile jumped off the tray at the last moment but Charlie was quick to catch it.

"Seeker's reflexes."

Charlie joined in on Oliver's laughter.

"So, are you planning on hibernating here, or…"

"What?"

Charlie pointed to all the food piled up before them.

"Oh no, I was only going to get some lemonade and then the smell of those freshly baked cinnamon rolls got me. And I thought, well if you eat some sweets you need tea to go along and I didn't know what you like so I just bought a small selection."

Charlie raised his eyebrows.

"Ok maybe not so small."

There were the dimples again.

"So, tell me about the double eight loop. Are we working on that?"  
"Yeah, I thought about trying it. It will be good for penalties but it's a pretty difficult move. You've got to really be able to control your broom on high speed. The main problem of course, are the tight turns. But that's a worry we face later on. We start with seeing how much speed Jesper and you can master before we're going into the actual move. At least that's the plan."

Quidditch was something they both loved but for Oliver it was a passion. They talked about the tactics Charlie wanted to try over the next few weeks and the details of the individual moves.

Charlie relaxed more and more although he caught himself staring into the other boy's eyes more than once. Well, he was quite cute when he was talking about Quidditch. All eager, somehow almost glowing.

"If I manage the double eight loop there's no way Hufflepuff stands a chance."

"More like if Jesper manages it. You're not playing in the next game."

"What? Why?"

"I've already done the line-up. You're injured, so you're not playing."

"No, I'm fine! Really! You can't do that!"

"Calm down. It's just one game. You'll be on the list next time."

"Please put me down it's just a sprained ankle."

"It's not. Madam Pomfrey said it's an inflammation and it should heal on its own."

"I don't even need my foot up in the air!"

"Oh come on, now it's getting ridiculous. What about that move last week? The one you kicked the Quaffle to the other side of the field?"

Oliver looked crestfallen.

"Look, I don't want to provoke any accidents. I need you for the other three games. You do understand that, don't you?"

"I do." Oliver met Charlie's eyes with a frown. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Maybe we should just talk about something else. We've been at it for hours now."

"What?" Oliver glanced at his watch. "Shoot! I was supposed to meet some girl here. I bet she thinks I stood her up. Damn it!"

Something cold run down Charlie's spine.

"What… What do you mean?"

"I had a blind date or something like that. I think that's what that crazy girl called it. Sorry, I mean Tonks. I know she's your friend."

"So you thought you'd meet a girl here? Without knowing who?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds crazy. She's pretty insisting though, your friend. Said she had someone who's perfect for me. And I just thought, why not?!"

"Oh that's just great. Just great. A girl. Of course you'd expected a girl. Stupid, I'm so stupid. You didn't even notice."

"What? Charlie, what's going on? Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, yeah I think I should go."

The redhead grabbed his scarf angrily.

 _Of course, he wasn't looking for me. How daft am I? He didn't even notice he was supposed to be on a date with me. That's low, even for me._

"Wait! Have I said something wrong? Is it because I was angry about the match? I'm sorry, really I am. Sometimes I just get too passionate about it."  
"No it's not about bloody Quidditch."

"What then? I don't understand what's going on."  
"Obviously!"

Charlie grabbed the scroll and shoved it unceremoniously into his bag making the quill fall from the table. Oliver bend down to pick it up.

"You know, I think I've got the same quill. Tonks gave it to me actually. As some kind of identification for this blind thing."  
"Is that so? How coincidental." He was being near hysterical and he knew it. Charlie took the quill from Oliver's hand, crushing it between his fingers before he threw the remains into his bag.

"Wait a minute…"  
 _No, no, no, no! Just let me get out of here. Please!_

"Is this… Are you… Are we… I mean…" Oliver cleared his throat. "Were you waiting on someone?"

Charlie closed his eyes.

 _This is not happening. It's not happening._

"Charlie?"

"Well, yeah. I suppose."

"Did you know who you were waiting for?"  
"No, of course not. It's called a _blind_ date, isn't it?"

"But just now, did you know it was me?"

"Yeah, well, you've got the quill. I'm sorry. Maybe Tonks thought it'd be funny."

Oliver's fingers found the tips of the feather stroking it abstractedly.

"Right, of course." His eyes met Charlie's. "You haven't left though."

"Well, I'm leaving now."

"No, wait! Does this mean you _wanted_ to be on a date with me?"

Charlie closed his eyes. The bloody angel figurines were still singing cheerfully.

 _No, no, no! Please, no!_

"Charlie?"

He braced himself, taking just a moment to open his eyes although he avoided to look directly at Oliver.

"I suppose, I didn't mind."

"So, you like me?"

"I'm sorry, alright? I just go now."

He stood up, threw his scarf around him and grabbed his bag and coat. Turning on his heels he had only made a few steps before he was stopped by a hand on his arm.

"Charlie."

 _Damn it! Damn it! I'm gonna kill you, Tonks._

"Charlie!"

Slowly, he turned around. Oliver was standing before him, much too close and all tousled hair and buried dimples and shining eyes.

"Mistletoe."

Charlie glanced up and back down again, searching Oliver's eyes as the other boy held his head gently with one of his hands. His skin was tingling were Oliver's fingers touched it, he held his breath even though his heart beat painfully fast.

It took only a second for Oliver to close the distance between them. His lips met Charlie's, still the slight taste of cinnamon on them, incredible sweet.

When Oliver stepped back Charlie searched for any kind of regret. For a mean laugh that told him he had been played. But there was nothing. Oliver's cheeks were slightly flushed but his eyes only held the same gleam they did while talking about Quidditch.

"I don't understand."

Oliver laughed.

"Obviously!"

Grinning broadly, Oliver pulled Charlie in, kissing him again.

Charlie didn't tell him that the 'mistletoe' was just a twig of fir. Somehow, he didn't think it mattered.

 _Maybe I won't kill Tonks after all._

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _ **Written for HSWW (Challenges & Assignments) [Term 8]**_

 _ **Book Club:** Little Pete: (word) game, (action) balancing something, (word) accident_

 _ **OTP Challenge:** Prompt: Write about your OTP's first kiss. Optional Prompts: (dialogue) "Please put me down it's just a sprained ankle", (color) Turquoise, (song) "Sidekick" by Walk the Moon, (setting) Madam Puddifoot's, (AU) Blind Date_

 _ **Character Appreciation:** 15\. Dialogue: "Obviously!"_

 _ **Showtime:** 2\. Waving Through a Window - (action) Waving_

 _ **Count your buttons:** Objects: 5. Scroll; Dialogues: 1. "I do."_

 _ **Restriction of the month:** No characters older than 20 years old. (prompt: word - smile)_

 _ **The 365 Prompts Challenge:** 208\. Plot Point - A first kiss_

 _ **Fanfiction Resolution Challenge:** 10\. Write a pairing you've never written before_

 _ **Bath Bomb Appreciation Challenge:** 2\. Azure Skies - Set your story on a beautiful sunny day._

 _ **Sticker Challenge:** Magical Creatures Collection: Dragon - Write about Charlie Weasley or Hagrid; Sweets Collection: Ice Mice - Write a fic set in winter or halloween_

 _ **The Insane House Challenge:** 184\. Location- Madam Puddifoot's_


	5. Take Me Away

**Take Me Away**

 _word count: 1091_

* * *

His fingers move swiftly over the keys, the tune he creates is a soft one. It wafts through the room, creating a dream-like atmosphere.

When he finishes the piece he lets the silence stretch out, the music seems to linger as if the particles of air still vibrate with the sound.

"Wow."

Draco spins around, shocked at another one's presence. He feels caught as if he had been doing something naughty.

"Astoria. How long have you been here?"

She ignores the question and walks over until she's just inches from the grand piano. She doesn't lean on it, doesn't touch it as so many others have done. Somehow, she seems in awe and Draco doesn't know why he likes how she acts towards an immobile object.

"You are really good." She breathes out the words more than she says them.

"Of course I am. I've been playing since I was four as you know." Draco quirks up his eyebrows, pitying her through his expression as if the compliment doesn't mean anything.

"So has Theo but I've never heard him play like this. It's not your fast finger movement, you know. You're feeling the song. You do make _me_ feel the song." Astoria speaks as if she's in a daze.

Draco laughs. It's a harsh sound, it breaks the atmosphere. He has to force himself not to cringe under the falseness of it. A falseness so well trained no one would ever suspect it's not real. Not as long as they haven't heard him play like Astoria has just minutes ago. Pure. True. From the soul.

She meets his eyes and he can't prevent himself from flinching slightly. There's sadness in her brown orbs and there's pity. Pity which he hates over everything else.

"You should pursue it, you know. You clearly love it." Astoria hesitates before moving on. "I've never seen you so at peace. Not for a very long time."

Draco is shocked. He can't think of a snarky response, there's too much truth in what she said. It's not something he is used to. At war, no one speaks openly. At Malfoy Manor even less so.

"You could do so much good being a musician."

This time his laugh is real. Still pathetic because it's one of hopelessness, but real.

"Music? Music doesn't help me in a fight, music doesn't heal Adrian, music doesn't protect anyone from curses or the Order or the wrath of-"

He snaps his mouth shut, stopping himself just in time before he says something that can very well be his death sentence.

"Him." Astoria swallows thickly but meets his eyes.

Draco stares at her for a few seconds saying nothing. He's tired, so tired. The energy flowing through him whenever he plays the piano is gone, leaving him again a shell.

At last, he stands up snapping the lid shut with a finality that lets Astoria wince.

"Well, there's a war going on, so I'm going to do something useful and practice some spells. Because powerful curses will be the only thing keeping me alive."

"I think you're wrong about that. Remember? 'Music, a magic beyond all we do here.'" She brushes softly over his arm before she leaves and Draco is left behind with a terrible twinge of guilt.

~oOo~

He's playing. He's playing so fast and hard and aggressive, it leaves him sweating. He can't blame it on the Order this time. He can't blame it on his father. He can't blame it on _him_ though it would have been true. So he puts the blame on the keys. He pushes them down forcefully, desperately clinging to the pain on his fingertips.

A water droplet hits one of the keys. A minor. His hair clings to his face, the exhaustion is nearly taking over but still he keeps on playing and playing and playing.

Adrian is dead. Adrian Pucey is dead. A boy not much older than him. A boy who lost the right to be a boy and was reduced to a nuisance of which one had to get rid off.

The sound that escapes his throat isn't pretty. A hoarse, animalistic tune tumbling through the music which already screams desperation. It joins the wailing coming from Astoria who is curled up in a corner, sobbing hopelessly.

Another water droplet falls from his face. It's dancing over the shuddering keys followed by another one and another one. He doesn't know if it's sweat. All he knows is that the taste would be salty.

~oOo~

He's standing in a dusty room, one wall sporting a big hole. Everything else is miraculously unharmed. The old piano, so unlike his own at Malfoy Manor, is standing in the right corner facing the wall. There hasn't been any music in Hogwarts for the past year. Not one tune since Dumbledore's death.

"Take me away. Please."

Astoria looks fragile. Small and broken. She shivers slightly but not slightly enough that he can't see it. There's blood on her robe but there's blood on everyone's robe. It's not necessarily her own.

Draco moves forward and sits down. His fingers hesitate over the keys, his mind reminding him how absurd it is to play the piano just after a war has ended.

When he starts playing he notices the tension easing up, the hope, the sadness, the desperation, the gladness of being free from him - it's all running though his fingers into the keys, into the music. The instrument is not quite in tune but that's alright. Somehow, it even fits. Nothing is in tune, not really. But someday it may be.

He doesn't notice the room filling up. Attracted by the alien sound, more and more people join the crowd. No one leaves. No one speaks. They cling to each other, they cling to the tune.

It's not just Astoria who is sitting with her eyes closed, imagining a better time, wishing the horrible pictures away. Some faces are tear stained, some have a faint smile grace their lips, some simply let the exhaustion take them.

It's not quite a Phoenix's song but it's as close as it can get.

Finally, Draco sees the truth. He sees that he never wanted to do anything other than this, than to create music which takes his audience away, takes him away. Something true and pure and real. Something meaningful. Something from his very heart and soul.

He sees the good it can do, the good _he_ can do. He sees that music really is magic beyond anything they do at Hogwarts.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _ **Written for HSWW (Challenges & Assignments) [Term 8]**_

 _ **Assignment 3:** Mythology Task 7: Apollo, God of Music: Write a musician!AU _

_**The 365 Prompt Challenge:** #357 Word - Powerful_

 _ **The Insane House Challenge:** #864: Trait - Virtuoso_

 _ **Serpent Day Challenge:** 53\. Hopi rattlesnake: (word) fragile_

 _ **Fanfiction Resolution Challenge:** 9\. Write an AU that you've never written before _

_**Disney Challenge:** Characters: 7. The Genie - Write about someone feeling trapped _

_**Showtime:** 14\. I'm Not That Girl (reprise) - (word) Wishing _


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